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Rig's Journal
What used to be. Date: January 19th 1892 Today was the usual shit jobs. The ones I complete at my pace, the way I wanna do it. Anybody says different can say it after hours, in the ring. Date: January 25th 1892 They had me fighting Stephen from North docks today, the Pole had no chance. He looked weedy like, all shoulders and no chest or arm power. Needs more time pulling chains the skeleton. "Red Sash" told me he didn't think I'd last past the fourth round. What does that Toff know? At least he pays well. First round Generally a pansy dance, both of us doing foot work, trying to spot mistakes. Occasionally slipping up, giving the wrong idea. By the second time we'd circled around each other I was already playing the crowd, letting him soften me up, with rib upper cuts, and jaw jabs for blood. Bastard gave me a fat lip, then taunted "You feelin weak tommy?" damn Pole insulting me like that. Had to whack him one in the mouth to shut up. The crowd loved his blood flying into the front row, they started cheering "Rigg, RIgg" when I gave him a second uppercut. Swearing something in Polish he shoulderbarged me, knocked the wind out of me. Best shot he'd seen all day. Ding for the end of the round. He got pampered in his corner, I just stayed focused, watching him. Second Round Stephy was daring in the second round. Wasted lots of energy doing some wide punches, gave a few kidneys for him to wince about. Dumb fuck. He started going red, and his cotten shirt was getting darker with sweat. He got lucky when one of the flounces in the crowd gave me a flash of cleavage. I'll never learn. Could only see that bosom with one eye after that, Stephy knuckled my eye good, poor mistake by me. Crowd cheers "Stephy!" pissed me off, no one plays my crowd. Round three was a bit delayed because with one blood filled eye, I launched myself at him and started jeering his face left and right with my fists. This time both of us had blood shot eyes and was pooring sweat from our brows, both focused on the other, watching his breathing, expressionless. Still as statues. A guy walked in behind Stephy, he had a cloak on him, gave Stephy some dutch courage in a shot, most probably the cheap whiskey from Benny's, by the shore. Round Four We both went at it like animals. First I blocked then he blocked, I did a double smash to his arms then a quick swipe across his face, he in turn winded me then did a couple of right crosses. Lost my balance, he had the chance to pin me and do a few good hard swings but he missed his chance. I looked up, Stephy looked different under the sweat and nose stains. He looked toned, like the juices were flowin in 'em. His eyes glowed a rusty colour. I got to my feet, noticed he was doing a wind up for a big upper, dodged, sent him packing with one to the kidney and the lung after he passed me. The fucker didn't move, he stood there and laughed, smiling, a laugh I haven't heard him do before. Normally the pansy had more of a jolly chuckle, this was a much deeper broader laugh. Like he'd smoked 10 bobs worth, in a tea break. Glaring eyes. He floored me with one jab to the head. I could see "Red Sash" smiling down into the ring from his seat. No way I was going to give him the satisfaction of being right. I got back to me feet, just. Spent the rest of the round dodging haymakers ... as much because I was staggering from the last one that put me down as because I was actually getting out of the way. Round Five saved me. I wasn't out yet, but I was seeing stars, for the first time Stephy was fighting back. Shaking it off after a cold bucket of sea water, washing away the fuzz from my eyes, to see before me an animal of a man clawing the bar stool and being held in his seat grinning at me. He shouted with some depraved voice "Gona get you today Rig, Rest time". My fellow man whispered me, "the bookies are hotting up on you losin' Rigsy", his worried face said it all, I was letting my dock down. The news worked, it got my edge back. Going into the ring I bid my time. I knew I couldn't do loose throw away points, at the kidneys his back, it didn't stop him. I had to do some heavy jabs to the head and brain dead him. He seems slower than he normally was. I checked this out, I went for a jab at his neck, his arm came up to block and I spun round and upper cut him in the back of the head, just brushing his shirt and ripping it. I could see his blood pumping through his body in a canal of vessels. The man had become a much heavier build, but he was slower. The dazz sent him into an ape like swagger, swaying his large arms to keep his balance. I knew this was the shot. Three sweeps with a jab in between sent the ape crashing to the floor, and he got up. Still smiling but through some missing teeth and what looked like a collapsed jaw bone. he still came at me, with all of his force, ducking and diving I sent him soaring. Landing on the deck, with a thud that rocked the barrels of the make-shift ring. The man streamed blood from his mouth, interrupted by his breathing. I slumped to the floor, victorious but upset like a big game hunter must feel like when he gets his best trophy that hes been stalking for months. I felt sorry for the man, he wasn't going to be the same after this. The crowd cheered and whooped for a while, then a fanfair of ripped tickets and chip paper were the only things I could focus on. The crowd flocked into Benny's, I had my back to them and all I heard was the door flapping like a loose main sail. Stephy's crew attended to the wreck I'd left, I felt sorry for the guy. After that I remember a ringing sound, then everything went black. The fight of my Life Date ... some unknown days later. Im' wandering in and out of sleep, just like the salt water washing into my mouth with the tide. I see many reflections of moonlight. The sudden flashes make me shut my eyes, and concentrating on not swallowing water. Breathing is restriected because of the jabs Stephen directed at my rib cage. Total darkness. Its been a few hours since I was chucked in 'ere. Im fucking cold. The sea salt stings my wounds. Trouble sleeping now, the chill has latched onto my breathing. This wooden post I'm carving my journal on is deteriating. The salt water, washing the new wood ivory. 26th of Feburary I'm out. After an 'oriffic deal. Heavy footsteps, came and said "Your times up prize fighter" I smirked and replied "Says you? I'll change that, when I wrench your jaw off!" He went away quite quickly after that. After dark a group of people go past me dragging a half beaten man, I didnt get a proper look at him, but im sure it's Stephen. Wandering back, they stop at mine and throw a switch across the other side of the room which makes an wooden door wher all the tide is been coming thorugh. I hear a foriegn, maybe an arab voice say "Go out to play, cockney fighter". Looking at the shadow of the man, and the open door at the oppsite end of my room. Dressing in what little clothing I had left, I wade out into the darkness. After much walkign I can see some lights in front of me, and can hear an oncoming rumble of a crowd. Im in another fight. I enter an opening, in an underground areana it looks like. Most be under the docklands, rows upon rows of torches. Red banners decorate the space sparcely. The water is now knee high. A loud voice behind upon a raised stage says "Welcome prize fighter" its my red sponser, "So good of you to join us ... Our pet was getting restless, but now you are here. NO MORE BETS" he shouts. The crowd roar, clearly im not in a good place, clutching my left arm, to support my ribs. A mighty creak and grind of machinery opens a door acorss the low pool from me. The water disturnbed, like a great white was coming in. Peculiarly I heard a groan like some tortured chimp was around? So I thought well if they've got my fighting a chimp this will be mocking my great skill. It really wasnt a chimp. What stepped out of that door, well more like what stepped under that door was huge, bigger then huge. It battered its chest then clambered towards me. Defensively I put my hands up. I took several of these blows, my forearms became heavy with ripe purple bruises, and burst blood. When I couldnt hold my arms up anymore because of the weight, thats when I went flying into the wooden wall of this arena, the cool water soothed the heat that burned the side of my face. The crowd roared with laughter and cheers for the "pet". I looked up, the pet was scared at all the noise and took its eye off me. I had a moment to get my thoughts together. Nearest part of the crowd leaned close to the edge taunting me with "We knew the beast would have ya, you degenerate scum!" The overwhelming feeling that followed, pushed my pain out of my mind, pushed the noise of the crowd out of range of my ears. I heard my heart beat perfectly, my breathing paced. The beasts slowed down groans obsucuring my consentration. The rage built up in me. Letting out a great violent cry, I charged at it, the disgusting thing had to be killed or i would have been, besides I never lose a fight! Dodging the thign was easier to see now, everything was clear, my punches, jabs and uppercuts were like anvil strikes. The beasts bones breaking were creaks of a ship, its teeth when its jaw bone was broken was like an anchor being raised. Its great arms were thrown up, exposing its chest, I gave three great over the head hits, right on its breast bone. Its eyes diluted, a conscricted face suddenly paralyised. A new sounds emerged which snapped me out of my rage, the beast did a small whimper, then I had to dodge to the side, because its sheer weight had toppled, it lay un-submerged with tis sheer size, blowing shallow bubbles with its nostrils and twitched. I had saved my life but at the cost of ending this beasts mocking life. After this I coudl hear the Red Sash shout get the guns. With what little thought i had left, I ran for it, through the metal doors. Another dark corridor, my arms regaining there weight, I used my plams to feel for the wall and just went where the tide got louder. Just before the sun rose, I swam back onto a dockland with a sky above my head. I sought refuge in the closest home to me, Benny's bar. Sitting there in a coat I had stolen from one of the morning shift, I say cradling my whisky which Benny was going to take out of my next wage. A out of place gent with one arm slid another one next to me, grabbign it before it went away I downed it in one. Introduing him self as a valid fan of mine, he wondered if I needed a new sponser, and slid his details in an envelope next to the glass and said "Good morning Rig" then scarpered. My new Sponser With the letter in my breast pocket, I wander the crowds while the suffragettes' whine about equal rights and the likes. I check the letter again, the name signed is Wilson. I ask a sailor "hey kingsman heard of this feller?" I get a sharp look from him and a general drunken curse at me, not taking crap from a jibbed sailor. Squaring upto him I puff my chest up and say "Want to repeat that?" Giving a short whistle 13 other sailors stop drinking and shouting at the suffragettes and turn there attention to me. I roll my sleeves up, when all of a sudden another sailor with a brown mustache pats my shoulder then grabs me whilst saying "Hey Tommy my old lad, where you been." This disturbs my concentration and I loose all composure and psych towards the other men that entered the duel. A man in a heavy sailors coat and a manic smile pulls me a decent distant away from the crowd. Introducing himself as Garv he notices my letter and nods, "Your got one too" reaching into his breast pocket and producing some ruffled paper. With my new found kingsman and his bit of fancy on his arm we mingle quietly with the crowd. I see garv move to a secluded part of the park, near the gypsie woman. This move turns out to be fortuitous and we meet the man who wrote the lettter to me and Garv. however it turns out to be more than just us two. Among the others there was a deranged religous ranting preist called Steel, a shadowed man who I understood to be slightly rough around the edges, name unknown to me; a lady with a medical background and her gentleman friend seems to stick out from this group and some scottish widow. After much talkign and no action that doesnt interest me, the man starts tlakign about payment for fighting, butting in I say "How much then?" and "What am I fighting?" To much to my enjoyment I discover Stephen on the docks took some drug from parts of spooky stuff, and that there is mroe fo this stuff goign around the place. All the more fights for me then. A shriek from the gypsy woman and a crunch from her male companhion disturbed the air. Two men with there backs to us, had thrown the gypsy woman on the ground and had walked the man she was with, into the ground! These two juggernauts then ran, or lept I am not quite sure, off into the developing mist of the night. A hunt for a fight was in the air, I gave chase to meet it coming head on. Garv followed me and the shady man of our party was third, the reverened kept up with me to my surprise. After much duckign and diving thorugh the mist whilst avoiding obstacles, I was in reach of the men and lept in the air to throw him off balance. The face that watched me when we landed was the same of Stephen on that lonely dark night on the docks. He had ripped his clothes or rather out grew them, they seemed to be several sizes to small for him now, with buttons busted and sleeves sheered. While Garv distracted, the other monster, I fought with mine. His slow muscle bound movements were easy to dodge, just had to time it right when he let his guard up. Then after a shove from him he dropped his arm, i upper cut his nose, followed by a crunch, and an explosion of crimson. He slummed to the ground. shortly after Garv knifed his one it was all over. We both celebrated that night at our new lodgings, me more than Garv did, he mysteriously had another lady to deal with. For the night I kept to myself, well the bottle too. The Dockland massacre continues Days leading to Friday 11th March, 1892 One of Garv's old flames came up to him, to save her husband, Garv looked quite uncomfortable saying no to her. Coming over to the group and explaining that her husband has been missing for some weeks, his recent interest in gambling had soon become a problem and he was last seen entering the renowned gentleman's club “The Umbral Rooms”, which my broker Mr. Green knows of, so he was able to give us a few directions. I gave my option “ Piece of cake just go straight in, grab him, fight anything that stops us?” My option was quickly ignored and snubbed at by Sir Robert, I nick name him Sir Bobby, its more my language. Saturday 12th March, 1892 Much time was spent thinking something I never spend much time thinking about “seductive” plans. Just like fighting, keep trying new things on the spot when Im in the ring. Eventually the “intellectuals” decide a plan on how to get inside the club because entry was by invitation only. Next day we would sort out props for our disguise. = Sunday 13th of March, 1892 Waking that morning, I went outside for my newspaper. Flagging a paperboy, shouting “Death at docks, beast suspected” I immediately thought that the beast that I fought for the entertainment of Red Sash, had escaped. Taking the paper from the boy I flapped it into shape, to get the full front page. Scanning it I read around the huge letters of the paper “Death at docks, victims bitten in chunks” several bodies, were found one each day for the last four days Each of them missing limbs and lying on a large pool of there own blood. All victims were at or in dock or the surrounding dockland terraces. From what I recalled I never saw the Beasts mouth in the nights light, but it never went to bite me, it was a brute who went fists first. Glancing up to recall more of that shady night, I see the pawn broker across the road was selling a harmonica. It was silver, with a brass bar across the end of the vents. It reminded me of my knucks. Taking the paper into the lodge, so I can sit with a Guinness. Reading more of the paper, things became more dodgy, the first body was discovered at pier 37, which is where the spices gets processed, the smells from India always waft around 37, the cargo is normally comes in sacks and is generally handled 1 at a time by the crew and horses. So how an animal was in that vicinity was even more strange. Something was going on. All that talk about preparing for tonight upset the Reverend Steel. That such “nefarious deeds are to be done on the day of the holy sabbath” so we lose a day effectively. Ms Morag, Sir Bobby and the Reverend visit their churches. Leaving me, Garv and Doc to do our own things. At this point I show them the paper, explain this is something out of the ordinary for that area of docks, we establish an investigation. The Croupier All for show Puppett master gave doll to girl. this girl became a puppet next time Morag went there. Later that day the ripers went to the same place where the puppet show was last time. Goign through the sewers Rig sees a puppet, they go to pursue it but Garv and Bobby are too slow and stealth. Rig had enough. Ofc this lead to a mob of them trying to kill him, plus him getting knowcked out by Mr Punch but that didnt stop him. Thankfullly Morag in angel form came to saves the day. Trip to scotland Werewolves, dead horse. FInd out that a little village near an estate called Torchwood, had a selection of monks that became werewolves. Rig took out 1 but mroag got the rest, in her element, well scotland. The carriage stranger After finding a carriage, a man dorpped a card and a letter warning a friend about some danger and a card for a gents club called "The Green Room". After getting Bobby on thr blower, we foudn out from him where it was and calling in on my old booky Badger, we foudn the place for the Green room and when it was open, also if we could get in. Garv was brave enough to go in, fair enough he looked the most decent there. Foud the conttact who told us to go his friend Morrison, Rushign to his house searching for him, through the many rooms, I open the door to see some stranger strangling Garv. Kill one who was a total push over. After much riffling around morrison's belongings who is still missing, says he hid a Mumified hand at the underground. We arrive there to see more Indian goons, upto no good ofc, in a departign train. First one on, and first into action! Garv opens the door and gets a fan of knives, I go in and dive, they all miss, ovbiously not as good as old rig. I can hear garv behind the door, puffing and panting, and I can hear Bobby clambering above trying to get the drop. Seems it was upto me again. I psych myself up, and stand up, only to get a dagger in the shoulder and one in the chest. Gritting my teeth through the blood that was pouring out of me, I snapthe handles off letting out a war cry and charge in and sot the nearest two. Breaking there necks I duck and dive, the other two missing me and upper cut the remainging two. Garv comes out of hiding behind the chair as ever and declares the place safe. I turn for the door and blackout. Hours later, I wake up as Ms House with her trusty pliers pulling the blades out of me. my shouler throbs, unaware Doc has already patched up. I hear Garv talking about going down into the secret under ground bunker, I'm still dazzy from the drugs. Bobby has trouble with the door. As soon as I'm ready I get up and open this door for the lady and ms House. Revealing a long corridor and of course Garv's yellow streak, so I storm down this corridor and get ambushed by two goons. I make quick work of them in this tight space, even though I am wounded. Doc told me I was at "a critcal" state; advising me to go and take a rest and keep Morag safe at the same time. After much time wasting and excessive flipping of my last shilling two guys come running out. I protect ... them from Morag. But I dont have to because they ran straight past me. This was odd. Not scared of me, not scared of morag, well she wasnt pocessed. As they ran screaming up the tracks, Garvin gave a holler to follow, so ms Morag in tow we went back in after our breather. Running through the tunnel, my heart thumping like it was the third round of a fight. My head was already drenched with sweat because of the pain my wounds that I had suffered earlier. As my steps echoed through the tunnel, like a second heart beat all I could think of was the looming terror behind me. Morag almost out of breath because a lady is not use to such running. I could see in the corner of my eye, she was holding her skirt up as of to gain more speed, you could tell she had slightly adjusted herself since the league's first event of the supernatural. Around the corner, there was an odd aura almost like a discolored flame flickering against the tunnel wall. I slowed my pace so I could place my knucks on. As I put them on, I admired the dents and scrapes on my brass buddies. Looking up after dressing, the first thing that struck mer was yet again, Garv was in the middle of a crowd spinning profusely to deflect incoming danger. My initial opinion of the usual situation (not again Garv) was interrupted by the shocking eyes of a ten foot tall walking, moving, many armed, dangerous looking statue. Suddenly my knucks didn't look so much unstoppable before I noticed the statue. I took my time to look around for space. Problem was the statue took up the most, so it only made sense, get rid of the statue get rid of the biggest problem. Screaming for glory I ran in, dodged two arms and landed two hooks to the statues right leg, make it crack. The statue obviously made of harder stuff than me, hit me with two right arms and I was out. Stumbling to regain my footing, all I could see was Garv laying out two guys, then the lights went out. I recovered sometime later to a familiar feeling, morphine. Ms House was tending to my head when I woke up, commenting again about my lack of respect for my body and recklessness. The only thing I wanted to know was how many “I had got?” To which the tailored reply came back as “Less than Mr Garvin”, I made a discontented sound, due to both the pain in my head and the fact Garv had out done me again. One of Our Own Some days later after much bed rest, I awoke to the brightness of the middle of the day in a cold sweat. I had had nightmares of been beaten up by Stefan who suddenly turned to stone and was wiping the floor with me. Still wearing my bandages around my ribcage, the statue had broken two or three of my ribs, it seemed. I rolled out of bed because I was too weak to get up and would probably cause stitching or bandages to come apart. It was 3pm when I visited the meeting room. Nobody but the barman was there, I asked for my usual, a nice cool Guinness with a full fry up breakfast. Nothing heals wounds better. Anyway the details were hazy but apparently Doc's uncle knows M. Holmes, a great detective that I read about in the Times. He's suffering with some drug addiction and were are to go and help them, not sure this is my area of experience but I do as the Doc asks because she's got me out of a few scrapes in the past, and generally is a good woman. After my meal, I grab a paper off one of the boys on the streets, headline on front page is “Four brutal murders in Whitechapal”, the paper was suggesting Jack had returned and was picking up from where he had left off. I was sure the rest of the guys would have already seen the papers this morning. So I headed off for the nearest place I thought they might have been, which was Miss House residence. Walking through the museum where Carsteirs worked, all the lovely things that shone from such exotic places that the likes of Garvin have been to. So many shiny things, which would fetch a few bob at the market, but I my thief fingers with there black stitches itched, but that was all they did. I had several people watching my also, but Garv could see my smirk at the financial gain there was to be had in this here spot. However, because I had nightmares of statues chasing me in the dark of night, I thought best to leave things alone because the room was filled with some similar ones. I moved close to Miss House and offered my arm for escort while Crispy filled in Dr. Watson on his findings, Morag adding her findings too the discussion that didn't interest me. My attention was diverted when we passed through large, heavy double doors, guarded by to two jackal like brutes. Both looked like they'd both seen some enough trouble in there time. I gave a nod to not frighten them. We were now in a large room with smaller double doors and a large window. I could see a man in what looked like a cover over him sitting in a chair. The man was middle aged, tall but thin, with black cropped hair. His face looked very alive but strained to be so. While Doc and the others fussed about the man, whom I felt out of place with, whats a boxer to do in a museum talking to a great intellectual anyway? So I went and had a chat with the muscle. After saying good evening they introduced themselves as Bond and . They weer nice enough lads, both in the same business as me, clearly not as well off as me though, they had some ripper tech, but they clearly hadn't a clue about what they got. The one called Bond said “Oh you put it in you?” which just puzzled me. After much talking a ghost appeared of some feller called Morey something and gave Mr. Holmes( as I had learned his name was later) an injection of cocaine, this was really baffling because he was solid enough to hit or pull away from Mr. Holmes. Ms. Holmes thought this was “of a degrading nature for such a man of Holmes's intelligence!” insisting we should move him to her house which would be much more comfortable. Seeing there was nothing more for us to do that night we headed off home. Next morning we visited the recent attack of the “new Jack” killings, which had occurred that night at Whitechapel. Garv had gone ahead and Crispy was going to meet him there. When we were nearing the location we heard a woman screaming “The ripper is here, the Ripper is here!” picking up the pace we see before us a woman with her hands to her mouth, which I presume is the one screaming, now attracting the attention of the police and Garvin trying to calm her down with blood on his coat. Before we could get to Garv, the police already have him clapped in irons. I put my hands into my pockets to slip my brass buddies on, when Carsteirs shouted to my disbelief “Stop that man!” Carsteirs, quick wittingly, had assumed the persona of a Doctor, who was treating Garvin for Egyptian flu, which was very contagious without the vaccine. Relaying to the policeman with the aid of my little performance as the orderly. The copper bought it and we were able to remove Garv with strange object he had under his coat, but hey I didn't ask what it was. It quite funny forcing Garv (who acted quite easily as a ill man), into a carriage. As our cabby drove up to Miss House's place, Garv was telling us that he had found this saw at the latest murder. I shouted out “Watson is in danger!” through the door. Hearing this the honorable man breaks out of his habit fearing his friend to be framed. Turns out, it was Bond, one of the Rippers at the museum who had soiled shoes, like the dark alley way and he was left handed? I'm confused but Mr Holmes thinks he has it sorted, so thats good enough for me. With clever thinking from the others, they had figured out where the next murder roughly would be. So we set about setting up a place in the nearest whore house, I was not complaining. While I was looking at all the alluring ladies moving around the smokey house, I could hear the others thinking of a plan to get the killer to come to us, but the problem was, the prostitutes were all against going out in fear of their lives. I chimed in “just send Saint Morag out, she's tough enough to take her out and all”, then Garv, the bastard, added, “Maybe not Morag, Rigg.” So yes, yours truly, went upstairs and was kitted out to look like a whore, with Doc and Morag adding there, little, touches of makeup. When I stumbled downstairs (cursed heels!) Garv and Bobby were already getting their things together for an ambush. Bobby and Garv both said “ Good evening lady” to which I replied “It bloody isn't in this dress” fooling both of them, obviously I was deceptive, hopefully it was going to fool our killer too, men that kill whores have no honour. Patrolling the streets in this uncomfortable, ridicules awkward dress (no wonder these girls can not wait to get out of them) three men come up to me wanting favors, two were put off that I was a man, the other one needed some further persuading of the violent kind, cuckold. I can see Garvin chuckling to himself about the punters who mistaken me for a bit of nice. He's pretending to be a bum, to block one of his escape routes, Bobby is on the rooftops, to get an overall view, guns cocked and ready; the Doc and Morag are safe in the house. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Garv pulling some contorted frown, like something he would wince about; like a rat was moving on him, except I can't see a rat. He picks up some dirt from the street and throws it behind him whilst lurching forward. His neck gets nicked as he moves into a defensive stance. It all becomes clear to me when a broad man steps out of the shadows and engages him. I signal to the others that a fight is on and I rush in to support. Upon getting closer, I recognize Bond from the museum. I taunt him with “Come and fight a real man” a bit hypocritical the way I am dressed I know but it does the trick and the guy focuses on me. I give him a hook and an uppercut on that handsome jaw of his, putting him on his ass. He glares up at me and says “So that's how you wana play,” reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a ripe, big, red heart and takes a bite from it. This disgusting man clearly has lost his mind I was thinking, his ripper tech must have sent him off the edge, its a great shame, reminds me greatly of Stefan. I go for a hook to the face, he grabs my arm and wrenches it behind my back, then head butts me in the back of the head. Stumbling to my knees I feel the throb of my right arm, hes sprained several of the muscles and I can not move it. Garv has fully recovered now and does a bit of dodging his blade to try and get at the heart. Ms Morag joins us, and Bond stares in wonder at her, “Kill the woman” he shouts out and makes a dash for Morag, slapping her across the face. In my attempt to save her I muscle my way in. Recovering my breath I go for a left elbow to the guts, which has no effect, he returns the favor and does a fist whip across the side of my head and it sent my lights out. Later I learn that after I was out, Doc and the whores were taunting our one that went amok which gave Bobby enough time to aim for both his kneecaps, crippling him. Some police came running at the commotion but Mr. Holmes was on hand to wipe any idea of wrong doings and credit us for capturing the killer. I had another 2 weeks in the infirmary healing my wounds, while I was operated on, I had recurring nightmares of how Stefan and this Bond had reverted to a savages. Our Prophet Pen Friend Acquaintances I'd Rather Regret Alice Had It Easy